


The Lights Will Lead You Home

by Joyful



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Character of Color, Community: glee_angst_meme, Epilepsy, Homosexuality, Hospital, Illnesses, M/M, Male Homosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-02
Updated: 2011-01-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 08:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joyful/pseuds/Joyful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine has epilepsy, but never told Kurt because he was afraid Kurt would leave him.  Vocal Adrenaline uses strobe lights at Regionals and Blaine has a seizure.  Established Klaine, slight background Wesvid if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lights Will Lead You Home

**Author's Note:**

> A good friend of mine had childhood epilepsy. She hasn't had a seizure in years, but still, when we go to concerts and amusement parks I have to play strobe light lookout for her. I once had to lead her through a huge crowd of, like, a thousand people with her eyes shut. It was like a big, complicated trust walk. Based on this prompt from the angst meme: http://community.livejournal.com/glee_angst_meme/4263.html?thread=7035047#t7035047
> 
> Also, written before Blaine's last name was announced. I tried to fix them all, but I may have missed one or two. So if you see a stray Ferguson, know it should be Anderson.

There were five glee clubs competing at Regionals that year, and the Warblers were slated to go last. New Directions had gone first, and Kurt had slipped out of his seat after to give Mercedes, Rachel and the others big congratulatory hugs. He'd skipped watching Aural Intensity perform, to talk to his friends, but sneaked back into the auditorium between them and Vocal Adrenaline, while the roadies were setting up for Vocal Adrenaline's performance. He bumped into Wes as he was walking back to his seat.

“I'm going to get some water,” Wes said. “Go keep Blaine and David company, and make sure they don't get depressed by VA's dancing skills.”

“They are no match for us musically,” Kurt said. “So what if they prance around like gazelles? We're way more talented than Vocal Adrenaline.”

“I agree with you,” Wes said, “But you know how Blaine and David get when they think their 'dancing skills' are being challenged.”

“Very true,” Kurt agreed. Neither Blaine nor David were amazing dancers, but what was important was that they believed themselves to be amazing dancers. But they both had a tendency to become maudlin if somebody pointed out that somebody else was a better dancer. And Kurt knew for a fact that Vocal Adrenaline were good dancers.

Kurt went back to his seat between Blaine and David. David was looking over his shoulder, most likely wondering if Wes was back yet. Kurt gently slipped his hand into Blaine's and gave it a small squeeze, and was rewarded with a smile. Kurt and Blaine had only been dating officially for a couple of weeks, but they were already so very comfortable together. Sometimes Kurt wondered if Blaine was keeping things from him. It made sense, of course, nobody liked airing all their dirty laundry at the same time, it was logical for both of them to still have secrets they hadn't revealed yet. He looked at his boyfriend's smile. Yes, there were definitely secrets hiding behind that smile. Kurt couldn't wait to ferret them all out. Their relationship was so new, there were so many things to discover.

“What songs do you think Vocal Adrenaline will do?” Blaine asked Kurt.

“Not a clue. But we're going to blow them out of the water, our set rocks,” Kurt said, leaning over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. “And you're amazing.”

“Look, they're starting,” David said, as the music started up. It became evident why they needed so much time to set up. First the fog machines switched on, then the lights in the auditorium dimmed as Vocal Adrenaline took the stage. They heard the opening notes of Rihanna's “Disturbia.”

******

“What's taking Vocal Adrenaline so long to get set up?” Wes asked, partially to himself, as he walked back to the auditorium, bottle of water in hand.

“They have a lot of equipment,” a security guard for the venue answered. “Fog machines and strobe lights and stuff.”

“Strobe lights?” Wes asked.

“Yeah,” the man answered.

“Strobe lights,” Wes paused. “SHIT!”

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” Wes said as he started running. “One of my friends is epileptic.” We ran for the auditorium and flung back the door, but it was already too late.

*****

Kurt thought the arrangement of the song was good. Sunshine hit the vocals perfectly, and when the strobe lights flicked on, Kurt thought they added the perfect touch to the performance. Oh well, Vocal Adrenaline was always good, they couldn't let themselves be psyched out. He was worried about his friends. The reaction to the strobe lights and fog machine didn't happen instantly. Kurt had time to acknowledge that the lighting scheme had changed before he realized the changes in the young men on either side of him. He felt Blaine's hand clench around his tightly, hard enough to hurt, and he heard David curse next to him, which was very unexpected. He turned to the older boy on his right, and saw that David had a look of horror on his face, but he wasn't looking at the stage, he was looking at Blaine.

“Oh God, no,” David said, and he leaned across Kurt, which confused the younger boy. He wondered what was up, and he looked at Blaine, who was still crushing his hand.

Blaine had been staring at the stage, his eyes wide, but as Kurt watched, Blaine's eyes seemed to roll back in his head as before they closed, though Kurt couldn't see Blaine's eyes clearly at all, since David was trying to cover them with his hands. Out of a corner of his mind, Kurt thought he recognized Wes screaming Blaine's name from the back of the auditorium, but Vocal Adrenaline was still singing, and Kurt's eyes were transfixed on the horror in front of him. Blaine's head was thrown back as his limbs thrashed around uncontrollably. Wes was running down the aisle, and all of the Warblers were staring transfixed as Blaine seized. Everyone in their section of the auditorium was watching them, but Vocal Adrenaline continued to sing.

“Normally I'd move him onto the floor and move everything out of the way,” David told Kurt tensely. “But we're in so tightly. If I put him on the floor he might get more bruised than if I leave him in the chair.”

“What's wrong with him, David?” Kurt asked, panic in his voice.

“He's epileptic, he's having a seizure. Didn't he tell you?” David asked.

“No. He didn't.”

At the end of the row of seats, Wes had his cell-phone out and was calling 911.

“I'm at the Michael Simpson Memorial Convention Center and an epileptic is having a gran-mal seizure,” Wes told the 911 operator. “The ambulance is on it's way, David,” Wes said.

“Just keep holding his hand,” David told Kurt. “It's going to be okay. This is hell on his body, and it's going to push back him being allowed to apply for his learner's permit at least six months, which will piss him off, but he's going to be okay, Kurt.”

“What do you all think you're doing? You're drawing the attention away from my kids!” Dustin Goolsby shouted at the Warblers. “You're cheating, to try and draw favor from my kids!”

“We're not, Sir,” Wes said. “Your strobe lights caused our lead soloist to have an epileptic seizure. Don't you know you're supposed to put a warning in the program when you use strobe lights?!”

None of the Warblers had ever seen Wes so angry. Vocal Adrenaline was still performing, but nobody in the crowd was watching them anymore. Most of New Directions had come over to see what was going on, along with Burt and Carol, and several other adults. Santana grabbed her father and practically dragged him over. By the time Mr. Lopez reached Blaine, the seizure had stopped, and Blaine's body had gone still.

“Kurt, Pratik, James,” David said to the nearest boys, “Help me pick him up, we should lay him out in the aisle, so that the EMTs can get to him when they get here.” The boys lifted up their friend and carried him to the aisle, where Kurt sat with him, holding his hand. There was a wet stain in the crotch of hi pants, and Kurt felt embarrassed for his boyfriend. Blaine was always so careful about his appearance, he'd hate the fact that he'd wet himself in public.

“Does this happen a lot?” Kurt asked David.

“Not gran-mal seizures. His medications usually work pretty well, and he only has little seizures, or partial seizures. It's not usually his whole brain at the same time. He used to get them all the time when he was a kid. When we were little his mom pulled him out of elementary school and put him in a special school for a while, because he was missing so much.”

“Is that why he's only a junior, even though he's nearly eighteen?” Kurt asked.

“Yes,” David said. “But right before junior high he got on new medications that were working, and he was able to go to public school again.”

“Then the bullying,” Kurt said, he knew that part of the story.

“Yeah. The bullying, so Wes and I begged him to come here. I'm sorry Kurt, I thought he'd told you,” David said again.

“I was trying to convince him to,” Wes said as he walked over to the other side of them and knelt on the floor by Blaine's prone, slightly twitching form. “He somehow got it in his head that you'd think he was a freak or something, and break up with him if you found out about the epilepsy.”

“What? How could he think that?” Kurt asked.

“It wasn't just being gay that got him taunted in junior high,” Wes said very quietly, speaking directly to Kurt. “As you can see, when somebody has a seizure, they lose control over their body completely. Sometimes they pee themselves, or crap themselves, and you know how kids and teenagers can be. They mocked Blaine mercilessly. For being gay, for being epileptic, for being nerdy, hell even because he liked to sing. He knew you were okay with the gay part and the singing, but when you've been burned a lot...”

“I get it,” Kurt said softly.

“He was working up the courage to tell you,” Wes said.

“He told me a month ago that he was going to tell you,” David said. “That's why I thought he had.” David saw Wes' frown and placed a hand on the Asian boy's shoulder. “We need to forfeit.”

“I know. I mean, we could shuffle some stuff around and sing different songs, but I don't think any of us could concentrate,” Wes said.

“I'm certainly not singing tonight,” Kurt said, still on the floor with Blaine, holding the unconscious boy's hand.

“Pratik, Harry, can you guys find the judges, when VA is done, and tell them that the Warblers are forfeiting due to illness?”

“Sure,” Harry said.

“And you, Mr. Goolsby, I'm about to call Blaine's father to tell him his son had a seizure. When he finds out you used strobe lights without any warning or announcement, I'm sure he'll be more than willing to sue. This is his only son we're talking about here, and Mr. Anderson is a very successful attorney,” Wes said, glaring at the rival school's coach. He did take out his phone again, and call Mr. Anderson.

“Mr. Anderson, it's Wes. Blaine had a seizure. Yet, it was a big one. No, I saw him take his pills this morning, one of the glee clubs used strobe lights in their performance. Yes sir. No, sir. The ambulance is on it's way, sir. Yes, I'll let you know as soon as they tell us which hospital. No, I haven't called Mrs. Anderson yet, I called you first.”

Kurt held Blaine's hand until the paramedics arrived. They took Blaine to the hospital, and all the Warblers got into their bus to follow their teammate. They didn't care about the competition anymore, they only cared about their friend. Kurt was so focused on what was happening with Blaine, that he didn't even notice that Finn and Mercedes had come with him to the hospital, until Finn handed him a cup of coffee, and he realized Mercedes had her arms around him.

“Mercy, how long have you been here?” Kurt asked.

“Since the commotion at the auditorium,” she gave a small smile. “Who else did you think was holding your hand?”

“I don't think I noticed,” he said.

Eventually, a doctor came out to speak to the Warblers and their chaperone.

“Mr. Anderson is going to be fine, but a tonic-clonic seizure like that is a lot of stress on the body. He'll probably be asleep for the next twenty-four hours. Also, he probably won't have any memory of the hours surrounding the seizure since it's normal for retrograde amnesia to accompany a neurological event like this. You boys should all go back to school. Your friend will be fine,” the doctor reassured them.

 

*****

Blaine's parents kept him home for two days after the seizure before letting him go back to Dalton. When he did finally get back to Dalton, everyone was really nice. Nobody blamed him for losing them Regionals, and nobody called him a freak. Nobody even made any comments about how he'd peed his pants in front of everyone, which he'd realized when the hospital gave him his uniform back. He made it through the first half of his first day back fine, only getting a few odd looks, and no mean comments. Lunchtime was the first time he saw Kurt on Wednesdays.

“Hey,” Blaine said awkwardly, walking over to Kurt's table. “Can I sit with you?”

“Since when do you need to ask if you can sit next to your boyfriend at lunch?” Kurt asked.

“You still want to be my boyfriend, then?” Blaine asked, surprised, sitting down on the bench next to Kurt.

“Uh, duh!” Kurt said. “Blaine, you're awesome and I love you. You make me feel all gooey inside, and I feel like I can talk about absolutely everything with you. So you have a neurological condition. So what?”

“It's just, well, I got picked on so much at my old school. I had a gran-mal seizure in the seventh grade, like the one I had at Regionals, and I lost control of....certain bodily functions. The names I got called were not only cruel, but were things I won't repeat while you're eating,” Blaine looked upset. More than that, he looked sad, fragile, broken. This was a side of Blaine Kurt had never seen before. He'd never had imagined that Blaine could be as afraid of rejection as he was.

“And look!” Blaine pointed at Kurt's hand, which was a big bruise, with two fingers in splints. “Look at what I did to you!”

“Blaine, I don't care about that. My hand is fine, and will heal completely. I care about _you_. Blaine Anderson. Who loves to sing and play chess and is horrible at French despite studying it for years, and who thinks fisherman sweaters are fashionable. If I can be seen with you in public while you wear a _fisherman sweater_ and _acid wash jeans_ , then why would I give a crap if you have seizures from time to time? I mean, obviously, I don't want you to be sick, but I'm not going to break up with you over it.”

“Oh,” Blaine said, sitting quietly for a minute. He quickly pecked Kurt on the cheek, since PDAs were looked down upon at Dalton, and then frowned. “Wait, my sweaters are _totally awesome!_ ”

“Just keep telling yourself that honey,” Kurt said, patting Blaine lightly on the back of the hand.

*End*


End file.
